etched pathways
by xoVanilla-Bean
Summary: Wish upon a star; break my fall, break my heart. — Marlene x Denzel x Moogle Girl


etched pathways.  
wish upon a star; break my fall, break my heart.  
marlene x denzel x moogle girl

»«

"Let's wish upon a star."

Denzel looks to the side, the wisps of her hair teasing his eyelashes. The blades of grass cut through to his scalp.

"What for?"

She looks away from him, back up to the blues and blacks and glitter. She blinks out a smile, closed lip-zipped up.

"It could be like a promise…" it was uncertain, like a stutter brushing the back of her teeth. "Remember the story Tifa used to tell us? When we were little?"

Denzel stops himself from rolling his eyes. It was just like her to be full of girly aspects of romance and promises of flowers.

"Yeah, I remember."

"So I thought, maybe…" she continues with the breezes. "Maybe we could make a promise too, Denzel."

He fidgets, his conscious and anxiety fighting to stop him from hurting her feelings.

"Why?" But sixteen years old and he can't fight the selfishness of not caring.

"Because," and she's fourteen, un-almost-not-breakable. She's Marlene, and she realizes. "I want you to be my hero."

He swallows it down and digests it whole. "What if I don't want to be your hero?"

The trees ruffle with shaky leaves. "Then…" she watches the wind topple over a star, and down it falls. It disappears, and she wonders where it possibly could have gone.

"I'll be yours, instead."

He gets up and scoffs, baffled. He's kind of tired of all the things she's been doing lately. But he's aware that she's playing at something he hasn't found out yet. He knows her too well, he thinks.

He walks back to their house, avoiding the gaze she gives him.

"Goodnight."

»

It's like déjà vu.

"Let's wish upon a star."

Except the girl is in the spot he occupied last, and she has these pretty bangs and pretty eyes. And he's holding her hand, and it's so warm.

She looks to him, and everything about it is frighteningly uncanny. But at the same time, it's very, very different.

She smiles. "What for?"

All of a sudden, his stomach fills with dread.

"It…it could be like a promise." He bites his lip, unsure how to keep on going, how to change it. "It could be something…between you and me." His words come out like a turtle from hibernation. If a turtle hibernates. He doesn't really care.

She looks back up, eyes frosted over and not really seeing.

"…why?"

"Because…" his breath is shaky like the stars hanging way up high. He hopes his palms aren't sweaty, and that she can't feel his pulse.

"I, uh, I want –" there is too much saliva building in his mouth and he has to keep swallowing. "I want to be your hero."

Her smile's back, and his heart is pounding even faster.

Her eyes have an increasingly grateful look in them, but she's shaking her head. He starts to panic, just a little, because she's still smiling and it isn't sad.

"Oh, Denzel…" he feels the hand that he isn't holding land on his cheek.

"I –" she bites her lip, stops. He blinks and looks away.

"Just forget I said anything." He slides his hand from hers, and he feels a rip somewhere near his core.

"No, Denzel –" she grabs his hand. It holds the exact amount of perfect comfort.

Yet, he's still trying to get far away, maybe to the stars.

"I don't need a wish – a promise." He can't look at her, and he feels somewhat ashamed for bringing up something so...girly. So flowery and sticky-gooey romantic. So…Marlene.

She continues.

"Wanna know why?" The lilt of her voice makes him look to her eyes. He nods, guarded.

But her smile is song worthy. "You've always been my hero, Denzel." She steps forward slowly, as if to not scare him. His sneakers are glued to the ground, so it's not a problem.

"..Oh."

He got his first kiss that night.

And it's funny, because it reminded him of sticky-gooey slime.

»

"I'm sorry, Denzel."

He looks up from the algebra problem he's working on, and his eyes meet an uncharacteristically nervous Marlene.

"Why?" He feels his brows furrow and his forehead scrunch. He watches her watch the ground.

"You know, about that wish? It was one of those moment things and I started to think about it and when I did it came out all wrong and I hope–" he swears Yuffie rubs off on her too much.

"Marlene, relax. It's not a big deal."

She stops and looks at him._ Looks _at him in that nonrefundable Marlene way. His eyes roam around, awkward, until they land back onto hers.

She shakes her head. "Well, you know what?" Her eyes get that sparkling gleam again, and it's contagious.

"Your head has gotten way too big for me to have any confidence in you anyway." She places her hands on her hips. "You couldn't save a _cater_pillar."

And he's up, out of his chair while she's squeaking and running as fast as she can.

»

"Hey."

She looks up, and there're tears freckling her eyes. When she sees him, she becomes a blur. All of a sudden he's holding her while he feels warm moisture touch his skin through his shirt.

It's been eight years since her brother died.

But he's there, and even though he doesn't have a cape, it's not like she notices.

»

He doesn't get why the whispers stop right when he walks into the living room downstairs. It's not like he doesn't know Tifa and Marlene have those girl talks, but come on. They make it too obvious.

Marlene gets up and says, "I've got homework." Her gaze is always ahead of her, but never lands on him.

She pauses in the doorway. "And thanks. Tifa." He notices Tifa's meaningful look that she gives Marlene. And then she's gone and on her way.

"Do I want to know?" He juts his thumb toward the doorway.

Tifa laughs. "Maybe. But you'll have to ask her."

Denzel sighs, exasperated. "I'll take that as a 'no, you don't.'"

Tifa just ruffles his hair, rolling her eyes playfully.

He's surprised, later, when he is lying on his bed and staring up at his ceiling. The door opens, and he sees her silhouette against the wall from the nightlight.

She creeps in, thinking he's asleep. He goes along not thinking, and makes his breathing even and deep.

He feels the dip in his bed, feels her curl up against his side and her head on his chest, lighter than his pillow. He thinks she might not even be there.

"Denzel –" but he's even more surprised when he realizes that she's crying.

Her breath hitches, creaks – old and chapped – and how she says it makes him forget that she's Marlene, and he hasn't heard her cry ever since that Marcus kid pushed her off the seesaw in grade seven.

"I love you."

They haven't really said that in a while. Only on occasion. He says it, on her birthday or Christmas. She says it more often, but never like this.

Not when he shouldn't hear it. Not when she doesn't want him to.

He knows in an instant that maybe this was what she and Tifa were talking about. But he still doesn't really understand it much.

»

"I'm so glad you could join us, Marcus." Tifa smiles one of her famous smiles, greeting the boy like he has been around forever.

"I'm thankful she invited me, Mrs. Lockhart." He grins, and Denzel almost barfs.

But Tifa, being the angel she is, laughs sincerely. "Oh, please, call me Tifa."

They gather together, and everyone takes a seat at the table. The turkey looks delicious, shining with greasy goodness under the light fixture, but all he sees are intertwined fingers.

"Denz, you okay?" He looks to his side, to a familiar, pretty – so pretty, knowing, wondering – face. He smiles and bumps her knee with his.

"I'm fine."

She knows he's lying, but he keeps on dropping it.

And then dinner's over, and whatshisface winks at her over something, and she giggles. She kisses his cheek, in what should have been an innocent gesture.

Which it was, to certain people.

He sees a nod, signaling the outside. She beams, grabs her coat, chocobo scarf, and beanie.

He has an urge to remind her to take gloves, but that other guy has the job covered.

Denzel doesn't know why all the little things he notices bother him so much. It's healthy to be a big brother figure, but he finds he keeps rolling his eyes at his ridiculous antics.

After tapping his foot three hundred times on the floor, he gets up.

"Hey, where are you headed?"

He nods up the stairs. "Bathroom."

It's not a total lie. But the window in there has a perfect view.

And he can't help but watch them on the swing set, racing each other for height. And how they jump out in another competition, seeing how far they can land.

Could it get anymore cliché? Of course they had to land in a mass of bodies and snow, like a wonderland in a globe all alone.

The laughter stops, the situation turns semi-serious. It's not like he hasn't seen it before, but it feels weird, invading their privacy from a bathroom window.

He leaves, heads down the stairs, and tells the girl with the protected eyes that he loves her.

He's surprised at how true it really, really is.

»«

"Guess this is goodbye, huh?"

He's avoided thinking about it. He hasn't wanted to talk about it, and he hasn't wanted to acknowledge it. Glancing at his fully packed suitcase, the panging insistence tells him it's time. She's the last one.

She tip toes around the room, dragging her fingers against the already dusty walls. She taps the glass window, leans by the ledge.

"Remember when we eavesdropped on Cloud and Tifa?" She grins and looks over at him.

"And we opened the window, and you leaned out so far you fell out?" The memory is crystal clear, and he didn't think she'd be able to, but she's made him start to beam.

She giggles, "_Almost,_ fell out."

He scoffs, "Oh, how could I forget? You grabbed my arm like it was your life line."

"You were. And amazingly," she pushed away from the wall and lands on his bed. "You were able to pull me back up." Her look becomes that look again. That Marlene look. He always, always has to turn away from it, at least for a little while.

"What can I say? I was a pretty strong nine year old." He messes with a shirt, spreading out the nonexistent wrinkles.

"Hm," her face turns thoughtful. "Maybe." Then she turns onto her stomach. There's a smirk on her face and he starts to feel as though the conversation wasn't really a memory.

"Or maybe you just wanted to save me."

It's been two years since that itty bitty scene underneath the starry night sky. His mind immediately drifts to it at her words, but anger starts to rise up in his sternum. She has to make it spring up, _now_, right before he leaves.

He bites out, "Well, you're basically my sister Marlene. It was impulse."

The gleam on her smirk flickers, and it tries to be persistent. But it looks all damp.

Still, she gets up and strolls to his side. She tangles her arms about him in a fierce hug, and she whispers, "I'm gonna miss you."

And it's just like that that he understands. All she wanted was a hero, a trampoline underneath her feet. All elastic and rebound-bouncy.

It couldn't be Barret, because he never let himself. It couldn't be Cloud – he was too…in his own dimension?

It couldn't be Tifa, because, well, as much as Marlene looked up to her that's all she could do.

"I'm gonna miss you, too." He hasn't realized his hands are clamping down around her back, squishing her body against his.

Who else could be left, besides him?

She relents, creating a small space between them. He lets his arms loosen, but hers are still firmly planted.

He belatedly realizes she's close. Much, much too close. It feels…odd. But at the same time, not at all.

It must not bother her, because she starts to smile while the raindrop tears curve down her cheeks.

She cups his face with her right hand, and it reminds him of pigtails and bangs.

Guilt creeps up his leg and takes refuge in his stomach. It shouldn't be, because it's an innocent gesture.

To certain people.

Yet, all he can see is a deep abyss of brown. Everything else, he forgets.

She says it again.

"I love you."

It's the same; it's the exact same. It's all old and chapped – he swears she's thirty instead of sixteen.

The guilt is choking his esophagus, and he can't manage to give it back. But she's leaning closer, and he can't seem to do anything about it.

Her lips are soft, and the chaste kiss lasts for no more than a second.

But in that second, he tasted dusty floorboards and tree houses and bowls of ice cream and _adventure_. It wasn't sticky-gooey romantic. It was dry, hopeful, and Marlene.

She looks in his eyes once, then away to his cheek and then to the floor.

There's one more tear that falls from her face, fast and falling – shaky like a star. He follows it with his eyes, but it goes so quickly. An absent wonder pulses in his mind: where could it have gone? It wasn't on the floor.

She trudges to the doorway, looking like a weary-worn soldier losing a ten year war that should never have happened. His feet are glued to the wooden floorboards, and he can't do anything even if he wanted to.

She gives him one more look over her shoulder, soft and defeated, then scampers off somewhere to someone else.

She's like the shooting stars that he sees when he's riding down the winding roadways, the motor of his automobile defiant across the grassy wilderness.

She falls and she falls, being caught and wished upon. Sometimes she's dropped, sometimes she slips away.

But wherever she goes, it's a mystery.

He feels the warmth of her hand wrapping into his fingers. He glances over to the side to see such a beautiful face.

Their suitcases jingle in the backseat, and it sounds a ringing in his ear, opening the door to a new home.

He's happy and the remnants of sadness are forever going to be wiped away.

She holds the moogle close to her heart, but she holds his hand closer.


End file.
